


Pride and Roses

by orphan_account



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, Male Slash, Male-Female Friendship, Merthur - Freeform, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-03
Updated: 2014-01-02
Packaged: 2018-01-07 06:10:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1116428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin never expected love to be like this-- if anything, he wanted an Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy type of love--the slow, steady, passionate blossoming of affection and promises. But with Arthur Pendragon, it seemed love was messy, composed of sparks, heat, promises and tumbling headfirst towards an inescapable doom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pride and Roses

**A/N: Hello everyone! This is my first time posting fanfiction on the internet in a long time, and my first time posting it here--it isn't my best, but I hope you guys like it regardless :) Honestly, I wrote it at one in the morning and there isn't much action going on, but if I carry on with this I can definitely promise a lot more later. Thanks for deciding to click and hopefully deciding to read on! Feedback would be greatly appreciated :)**

**-sylv**

 

Chapter 1

 

Whenever Merlin read romance novels, he would scrunched up his nose and wonder why he bothered reading in the first place.

 

Its not like he particularly enjoyed them. Really, he picked them up because of the covers (and he knew about the whole "Don't judge a book by its cover" thing. He did it anyways.) He liked simple covers the most. He didn't like covers that were trying too hard-- all those colors, all that ink-- and most of the time, it just seemed like there was too much going on in that little eight-by-four cardboard square. He liked uncomplicated covers the most. Simple. Elegant, easy on the eyes.

 

The covers of romance novels were always quite simple, because usually, the plotline was simple. It was love, with a few alterations here and there. Simply put, it was love. That was it.

 

And that was the part he couldn't stand.

 

He liked the covers. He couldn't stand what was inside. It was always too gooey or not gooey enough-- the actual romance was either too tragic or too complacent, too safe-- and love should never be safe. Love should be passionate, volatile, spilling over at the edges. If love was safe, it was only a matter of time before it would stale. And when it staled, there was no rescuing it. The only thing left to do was discard.

 

So, when Merlin wasn't hunched over the librarian's desk at the library or scribbling something down for some story that he was never going to publish, he was reading romance novels. Romance novels, that, after being read, would then be told off and dismissed. Promptly.

 

For Merlin, there was only one excuse to this ritual. It was Pride and Prejudice.

 

Merlin read Pride and Prejudice when he was eighteen, He didn't immediately finish it, and it sat there, gathering dust and yellowing at the edges, until a year later when he was moving out and hurriedly tossing books into a box. The dog-eared pages of the worn copy caught his eye. Merlin never dog-eared his books. He never so much as creased them. Dog earring books was an abominable act, an act worthy of punishment.

 

Merin hurriedly flipped over to the page that had beencxcarefully, meticulously folded over-- so much so, in fact, that Merlin could tell simply by the perfectly lined crease that he had been the one who had done it.

 

What kind of mind-state had he been in just ten months prior? What made him think that committing such a sin was okay? Merlin could only think of one thing that justified such an act-- he must have desperately wanted to finish it.

 

Sitting on the floor, surrounded by books and clothing and dust bunnies, he resumed resumed reading where he left off. He had to backtrack a little bit in order to catch up, and it took him a while to get used to the complexity of the book itself. Austen's language was slippery and hard to understand.

 

He couldn't keep himself away from the book until he finished it at five in the morning.

 

Whenever Merlin gets bored of vapid romance novels as he sits at his dust-lined desk, he pats that dog earred copy of Pride and Prejudice rassuringly from where it sits, nestled between his unfinished poems and dusty manuscripts.

 

***

 

Merlin took the bus home, simply because he doesn't have a car. It launching to say it, but working as a part time librarian while trying to finish college essays doesn't really give much economic headway as far as transportation is concerned.

 

Merlin would like to say he wrote poems, or stared desolately and romantically out of the window, but he didn't do either of those things. He stared out of the window with headphones slid over his ears, looking like like the bored, agitated, slightly manic college student he was.

 

He never really paid much attention to who sat next to him, As he always made sure to take a window seat so he could stare romantically out of the window as needed. He hardly even glanced the person's way, and this evening was no exception.

 

So when a body sat down beside him with a soft fwump, he paid it no mind. He just stared down at his phone and remembered, all of a sudden, that he was supposed to call his mother the day before.

 

He decided to just scribble down a reminder. He was already exhausted, and if his mother heard his voice in any gone other than a sunlight-doused carefree one, she would worry. The last thing Merlin needed was Hunith worried.

 

Merlin leaned his head against the window, where it bumped and wobbled and jolted as the bus made its way down streets, past suburbs, he felt the stranger beside him rustle, then sigh softly. It was the type of sad, exhausted sigh that Gwen made when she came home from work. Unraveling.

 

Merlin turned over to look at the stranger, and then the stranger, for some reason, felt compelled to look at him. Merlin expected a middle-aged businessman with gray temples and a briefcase. Not blond hair and a slumpy backpack.

 

The stranger was handsome in the unconventional way. His attractiveness wasn't overwhelming like some people tend to be; it dawned on you, like the sunrise peeking past the horizon. Big blue eyes that were rough around the edges. Light, faded blond hair. An aquiline nose. A pink smudge of a mouth.

 

Merlin gave the stranger a quick tuck-lipped smile and settled back into his seat. Before he could exude his aura of misanthropy, a rough, callousness hand was being extended to him.

 

"I'm Arthur. Are you listening to the Smiths?"

 

-

 

Merlin was indeed listening to the Smiths. Usually he didn't really like talking to strangers, but there was something about this one, maybe his blue eyes that were soft around the edges, or the fact that his smile was slightly too big for his face.

 

The big grin got smaller and smaller and slid down to an embarrassed frown. Merlin ad made no move to indicate reply.

 

“Okay then,” Arthur said, and looked out into the aisle, embarassed.

 

“Yes, I am,” Merlin said hurriedly. “Sorry-- I am. I am, listening to the, um, the Smiths. Do you-- do you like them?”

 

Merlin slapped himself inwardly. He sounded like a babbling fool.

 

Arthur turned back around with that smile. “Yes, I do. What's your favorite song?”

 

Merlin shrugged. “I've only just started listening to them.”

 

“Ahh,” Arthur said with a nod. Merlin was panicked for a second --is this the end of the conversation?-- but then Arthur turned to him again.

 

“I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name.”

 

“Oh, yes. Merlin. My name is Merlin.”

 

“Merlin,” Arthur said it slowly, like he was tasting it. “Nice to meet you, Merlin.”

 

“Nice to meet you as well.” Merlin tugged nervously at the scarf around his neck.

 

“So are you heading home?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Are you a student? I might have seen you around at uni--?”

 

“Yes,” Merlin said. “Yes, I am.”

 

“Oh, good,” Arthur laughed. “I wasn't sure.”

 

“So you go to Jordan?” Merlin asked cautiously.

 

Arthur nodded. “I'm on the football team.”

 

Merlin scanned him. “I should have known.”

 

“What's that supposed to mean?”

 

“Nothing, nothing.” Merlin turned to the window again, berating himself.

 

There was an drawn out silence between the two of them for a minute. Then Arthur gruffly asked:

 

“So-- are you from here?”

 

Merlin turned around again, cautiously. “No. I'm from a village up north. Used to live with my uncle, but now I stay with a friend.”

 

“I see,” said Arthur.

 

“What about you?” Merlin ventured.

 

“I'm from here. Live with my dad. He wanted me to stay local.”

 

“Oh,” Merlin said.

 

“Yeah.”

 

They fell into uneasy silence again, and Merlin stared out the window, letting his mind wander. The bus passed a park that remarkably resembled another one that Merlin used to play in growing up. All those winding hills and the plush grass. A proverbial Eden. Oh, how he missed home.

 

The bus screeched to a start and Merlin felt Arthur jolt beside him. He looked up as Arthur picked up his bag, and Arthur gave him a smile.

 

Nice meeting you, Merlin.” he said, and Merlin nodded and tried to get words out of his chest bt he could not, and then Arthur sauntered out and the doors closed, and the bus rolled away.

 

And that was that.

 

***

 

When Merlin got home, he found that he still had words stuck in his chest, strangling his larnyx, words that he meant to get out. Words like: “You're very handsome and I'm strangely attracted to you, how about we meet for coffee sometime?”

 

He sighed, defeated, trying to shake the words loose. They didn't budge. Fumbling around for his keys, he didn't notice the doorhandle turning and the door slowly opening until Gwen was in full view, standing there with a look of silent amusement.

 

“Oh!” he said when he finally managed to find them. “Was it open the whole time?”

 

She cocked an eyebrow at him. “You always come home exactly at this time.”

 

“Really? I've never noticed.”

 

She shook her head and let him inside. “Oh, _Mer_ lin.”

 

As Merlin hung up his coat and shrugged his bag off his shoulders, Gwen slumped down on the sofa.

 

“Just watching a bit of telly,” she sighed. “I'm so busy at work nowadays, they've given me third shift...”

 

Gwen worked at a retail store when not in class or painting; she was still working to her degree, just like Merlin.

 

Merlin rummaged around for the tea bags, nodding as Gwen talked about work.

 

“You look tense,” she remarked as Merlin finally sat down next to her with a mug. “Did something happen?”

 

“Not really,” he started, but then he froze, wondering if he should tell just yet.

 

“What is it? Are you sick?”

 

“No, no.” he said. He turned to her, and a sly grin crept up his face despite himself. “I met someone.”

 

Gwen's hands flew to her mouth. “Merlin! That's wonderful! Who is it?”

 

“His name is Arthur,” Merlin said.

 

“Arthur? His name sounds familiar.”

 

“He goes to uni with us. We met on the bus. He listens to the Smiths.”

 

“How do you know?”

 

“Because I listen to the Smiths.”

 

Gwen frowned. “I didn't know you listened to the Smiths.”

 

Merlin rolled his eyes. “Well now you do.”

 

Gwen cuffed him. “I always knew you were into that sad, mopey music, but I didn't know you liked the Smiths.”

 

Merlin scoffed, but he was smiling. “So what you listen to is better than the Smiths? Beyoncé and—what's her name?”

 

Gwen just shook her head. “Just go on.”

 

Merlin cleared his throat. “Fine. So he sat down next to me, and we talked.”

 

“About what?”

 

“Um, uni. Just general things.”

 

Gwen gave him a hopeful smile, dimples creasing her honeyed cheeks. “Do you think you'll see him again?”

 

Merlin thought about the words stuck in his chest. “I hope so.”

 

Gwen gave him a leaning hug, and they both turned back to the TV. “I hope so too.”

 

***


End file.
